


Appearances Do Matter

by Leela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humour, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 21:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco took one look at his mother after she came back from spending time with the Dark Lord and, really, he just had to do <i>something</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appearances Do Matter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minxie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/gifts), [Flic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Flic).



> Written in October 2008 for the_flic, Minxie, and everyone else who were having weeks that were as horrible as the image of Narcissa Malfoy with skunk hair from HBP that was making the rounds back then.
> 
> And thanks to Flic and Minxie for giving this a once-over before I posted.

Draco Malfoy stared at his father, at the _hideous_ uniform and the visible effects of prison life, and his last doubts disappeared. "My sympathies, Father."

A raised eyebrow was Lucius' only acknowledgment.

Shifting on the positively filthy and decrepit chair, Draco slid the Malfoy ring off his finger and set it on the table between them. He rested the tip of his left forefinger on one side. After a moment's pause and another revealing eyebrow movement, Lucius placed the tip of his left forefinger on the other side.

The connection with his father was instantaneous and embarrassingly reassuring.

"Did you know Mother has--" Draco paused, needing a moment to overcome his distaste "-- _roots_? And bad taste?"

A sense of disbelief came through the connection, and Draco shared a mental picture with his father. He could hardly believe it himself, even after seeing her up close and far too personally.

"If McGonagall wore a skunk instead of that atrocious hat..." Draco trailed off, unable to complete that image.

"Black hair?" was all Lucius managed.

"You don't think I'll... darken?"

There was a moment of painful silence, then Lucius shook his head decisively. "Absolutely not. You are a Malfoy."

Relief caused Draco's shoulders to sag briefly. Then, he straightened up and asked the other question that had been haunting him. "She was spending a lot of time with _Him_ before she changed. Is it possible that _He_... well, that... _He_ caused her to lose..."

"Without my influence, anything is possible," Lucius said and sent an image through their connection.

Swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat, Draco raised horrified eyes to his father. "He's got slits and... and He's... _bald_! We can't possibly..."

"Do you have any options that don't include beards that store enough food for the next millennium and virulently atrocious clothing sense?" Lucius swallowed, looking more than a little sick.

A pause to gather his strength and then Draco shared his own private wanking picture of messy black hair and a very fit body that was usually hidden under ill-fitting Muggle clothing. "He's not totally unredeemable."

"Not with our assistance, most certainly," Lucius murmured. Then, after sending a wave of comfort through their connection, he lifted his hand. "You will take the initiative?"

"Today," Draco agreed, replacing the ring on his finger. "I shall send word along the usual channels."

o)(o

The not-quite decrepit house stood on a street of identical houses in the midst of an area filled with similar dwelling places. The uniform lack of imagination was almost enough to make Draco despair. He squared his shoulders under the uncomfortable but impeccably cut dark grey jacket and strode up the path. He rapped on the front door, which opened so fast that the Muggle had to have been on the other side, watching.

"Whatever it is, we don't want any."

For a moment, looking at the man who more than filled the doorway, Draco almost changed his mind. Again. But, he reminded himself, Potter wasn't a Muggle and the alternative was _bald_. "I wish to speak with Harry Potter."

"You what?" The Muggle's face grew even redder -- and just how that was possible without magic, Draco had no idea.

"I wish to speak with Harry Potter," Draco repeated, then allowed a little steel to show through his politeness. "And, if you don't allow me to enter this... dwelling, I shall ensure that your neighbours know exactly what you get up to in here."

The Muggle blustered and flustered around, but eventually stepped aside. "You touch anything and I'll show you what for. I'm not afraid of your freaky kind. Understand?"

Draco didn't. However, that hardly mattered under the circumstances. It wasn't as if he planned to move in or even stay any longer than absolutely necessary. Doing his best not to examine his surroundings too closely in case such execrably bad taste turned out to be contagious, he followed the Muggle down a hall and into a room decorated with -- well, whatever the fabric was, it couldn't possibly occur in nature.

He waited while the Muggle clumped away, bellowing for flowers for some strange reason. Honestly, it was no surprise that Potter had turned out the way he did, forced to grow up in a place like this. Dumbledore ought to be Avada Kedavra'd for even considering it. Even a half-blood Potter deserved better.

"Malfoy?" Potter stood just inside the room, the Muggle looming behind him.

"Potter," Draco acknowledged. "We need to talk."

"Yeah. All right." Potter turned to the Muggle and muttered something that Draco couldn't quite hear. Whatever it was worked though, because the Muggle glared at both of them in a way that was probably supposed to be meaningful and intimidating -- _as if_ \-- and then stomped off.

Tilting his head towards the almost closed door, Draco raised an eyebrow.

Potter shrugged and ran a hand through his mop of hair. "It's his house."

Draco nodded in acknowledgment and took a deep breath. The background was hardly appropriate, but fealty must be given with appropriate dignity. He dropped to one knee in front of Potter. Retrieving his wand from inside his jacket, he clasped it between his hands with the point aimed at his own heart and the grip directed towards Potter. Then he stretched his hands towards Potter.

"Malfoy?" What?" Potter looked down at him, clearly confused.

Uncomfortably relieved that Potter didn't have a family ring that required kissing, Draco bent his head. " _Fidelitas Malfoy_. On behalf of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and the Malfoy line, I hereby promise that we will in the future be faithful, will never cause you or your family harm, and will observe our homage to you completely against all persons in good faith and without deceit."

Potter made a strange, almost strangled noise.

Draco snorted. He really was going to have his work cut out for him with Potter. He hissed, "Take my hands and _accept_."

"I..." Potter hesitated and then seemed to gather himself together. He took Draco's hands between his own warm hands and cleared his throat. "I, Harry James Potter... erm... hereby accept your promise and... erm... promise that I will... be faithful to you and yours in return."

Allowing Potter to pull him to his feet, Draco disentangled one of his hands and returned his wand to its holster. Now that he felt safe inside the protection of the oath, Draco didn't care that his heartfelt relief was audible. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Raking his hands through his hair again, Potter asked, "So, Malfoy, why...?"

"Have you seen _him_? Slits, Potter, and scales, and... and _bald_!"

"Uhh. Yeah, he's definitely that, all right." Potter's arm slid around Draco's waist in a comforting gesture.

"And what he's done to Mother," Draco shuddered and laid his head on Potter's shoulder, "She's got _roots_ and... _frumpiness_. Some things are simply unacceptable."

"Indeed," Potter agreed and tightened his embrace, drawing Draco closer. "Although, all things considered, I think you could call me Harry, Draco."

"Of course, Harry." Draco wrapped his arms around Harry.

They stood there like that for a minute or two, bodies pressed together, until a thud from the hallway reminded them of where they were.

"So, your dad," Harry said, "he's still in Azkaban?"

Draco sighed and lifted his head up to gaze sadly into Harry's eyes. "You wouldn't believe how horrible it is there."

"And he's my... what are you anyway?"

"Your vassals, Harry. And, yes, Father too."

"Well." Harry smiled and pulled away a little further, leaving his arm around Draco's waist. "Why don't you come upstairs and tell me all about it?"

"I'd like that." Draco smiled back. The real smile. The one he never let anyone outside the family see.

Harry stumbled gratifyingly.

"I'm sure you can come up with a way to free him. After all, it's hardly appropriate to have one of your vassals in prison, is it?" Draco let Harry lead him out of the room. "It's filthy and those uniforms... honestly, you'd think the Ministry would have some consideration."

"I'm not sure I can do that."

"Of course, you can," Draco assured him, "You have the power and the influence. It's simply a matter of exercising them appropriately."

"You're sure?" Harry chewed on his lower lip as he paused to open a door at the top of the stairs.

"Absolutely. I could help you, if you wish." Draco wrinkled his nose at the rubbish in the bedroom. "And find you somewhere appropriate to live."

"I... erm..." Harry glanced around, his own distaste clear. "I kind of have to stay with my relatives."

"Does that mean you have to stay _here_?"

"Well, no, I suppose not. It's not as if I don't have the money, I just didn't want _them_ to get their hands on it."

"Oh, I think we can work around that." Draco pressed up against Harry, wriggling his hips just enough to make Harry's cock twitch.

"Yeah." Harry's hand slid down from Draco's waist to cup the curve of his arse.

"Father is very distraught though." Draco moved his own hands downward and squeezed the nicely rounded muscles of Harry's arse. "Mother showing her true self--" he sighed "--well, he will need some _comfort_ during his recovery."

"I don't share. Not until I'm forced to, anyway." Harry shifted his hips until their cocks were pressed against each other through their trousers. "But I'm sure we can figure something out. How does he feel about men who play with dragons?"

"Oh," Draco breathed as Harry's hips undulated. "I just know that he's very fond of dragons and the men who love them."

"All right then."

Draco smirked and slipped his hand a little further down, pressing a finger into the cleft of Harry's arse. Sometimes Father had the best ideas.

~fin~


End file.
